Oscar Who?

The Oscars. The Academy Awards. Tonight.
It brings back a surge of memories from my Hollywood days. I lived in Southern California for thirty years and, of course, the Academy Awards was always an incredibly big deal. Nowadays things have changed. The Awards have lost much of their impact. Glamour is dead. Talent is minimal. And frankly my dear, nobody gives a damn.

Despite being ensconced here on the desolate plains of West Texas, the mere mention of the Oscars still makes me feel nostalgic with a bittersweet yearning for my youth and the fantastic times I once knew. I didn't think much about it then because it was a daily reality. In retrospect, however, it was all something special that few have experienced.

Jon, you're talking like an old man. Hell, you're not over the hill yet, are you??
Over the hill? What hill?
Well, not yet. Perhaps almost. But not quite.

I've already told most of my Academy Award stories in previous blog posts. I'll briefly rehash a few, with the hope that I won't sound too redundant.

When I was eighteen, I crashed the Academy Awards. Sneaked in without being noticed. I don't think this feat could be accomplished today - - but it was fairly easy then, if you knew the right stuff. That was back when the Oscars were still being held at the L.A. Music Center (instead of the Kodak Theater, or wherever the heck it's held now).

I was very familiar with every inch of the Music Center. There's a side door that only musicians used. I slipped in there, went upstairs, had some coffee, then strolled into the main part of the Music Center where the Awards were taking place. I stayed for about fifteen minutes, but then decided to leave before I was caught.

Outside, I started talking to one of the limousine drivers, who happened to be the chauffeur of Helen Hayes. He had a TV on, so we sat in the limo and watched the rest of the Academy Awards. That night I also met George Hamilton and Sammy Davis, Jr. That's when George was still married to Alana. George was somewhat of a snob. Sammy Davis was extremely nice.

Is this boring? I'm only reminiscing, folks. I have other Oscar stories, but I'll spare you.

For a few years, the Academy Awards were held at the Shrine Auditorium. The Shrine is located in an unnervingly bad part of L.A. - - where murder on the street has long been considered a sport. I used to occasionally see operas at the Shrine, before the place was rennovated. It was dark, dank, & sinister, with a mausoleum aura and smell.
I saw Rudolpoh Nureyev perform at the Shrine (Linda, if you're reading this you'll definitely remember).

Jon, as usual you're straying from the intended topic. Take us back to the Oscars.

One particular Oscar night. A rainy March night in Los Angeles. A gentle California rain. The night that Evergreen won for Best Song, with Barbra Streisand singing. A soft, sweet, tender, romantic night because I was with someone special (one of many, in my torrid youth). I want to reveal more but I wouldn't dare......We attended an after-Oscar party in Hollywood and, way after midnight, went back to an exquisite house in the Hollywood Hills. The bedroom was high up in a loft with a spectacular view of the city. Wine, grass, and Amyl, and making love until dawn. And echoes of Evergreen......Streisand singing.......

I have an incredible warehouse of Hollywood memories, so sweet and sustaining......and in such stark contrast to the hideously bland, windswept Texas plains.........